


Canopic Jars

by borlaaq



Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: ?? i just dont know how to explain that someone gets fucked while cut open, Blood As Lube, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dissection, Enthusiastic Consent, Knotting, Masochism, Other, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sadism, Size Difference, Slight Hypnosis, Slight musk, Surgery, This is really gross how do i tag it, Trans Male Character, Vivisection, but without the guts??, gonna have to use, gutfuck, its okay he has no organs!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borlaaq/pseuds/borlaaq
Summary: He thinks he should be more worried about his organs being perfectly preserved in a series of jars. Maybe find someone to put them back in. But, truly, that's not the most pressing matter on his mind. Instead he's left with a gnawing emptiness, a burning feeling of being hollow, and that's all that his mind can focus on.
Relationships: Seeker of Mr Eaten's Name/Mr Veils (Fallen London)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	Canopic Jars

> _ Come gather ‘round we’re slicing her open _
> 
> _ We all just want some spice from life and you know it _
> 
> _ Just give me a sign, I’m itchin’ from all the shame inside _
> 
> _ The pain, it feels so right _
> 
> _ \- Otome Dissection English Lyrics by David Toth _

Emil really should be more shaken up by the whole ordeal. His organs in a jar on his mantle with festive little berries. 

A series of jars, really; each organized in a way he can’t even begin to understand. Seven of them, of course. His stomach, intestines, lungs (still breathing), and liver each had their own jar. His heart (still beating) in another. The sixth held a collection of his various other organs, while the seventh had his reproductive organs. 

(Not like he missed those. Really, he would thank Mr Eaten for removing that mess if he could. Perhaps go yell it down the Well. Ever since Apples started giving him the injections for his hormones (and that’s another story. Apples and Wines fight over who should control the hormone trade), his cramps had been unbearable. Said cramps are, expectedly, gone now.)

He thinks he should be more worried, maybe find someone to put them back in. But, truly, that's not the most pressing matter on his mind. Instead he's left with a gnawing emptiness, a burning feeling of being hollow, and that's all that his mind can focus on. 

So being the intelligent man he is, he decides if anyone knows how to deal with the strange shit Eaten does, it's Veils. Perhaps Veils could dump the jar back into him. Perhaps direct him to a surgeon who can do a better job even. 

Either way, he sets off towards the Bazaar. It’s a rare event, but something about the holiday season when the Neath-Snow is piling up makes all the Masters be out and about more. They know people will pay more money this time of year. Veils had a shop set up and is quietly tending to it as it would. 

And by quietly, it is loudly advertising silk for the festive season, flitting between people with excitable energy. It had quite a crowd drawn, as did any Master when they deemed it fit to do business themselves. Veils being so withdrawn usually meant it was swarmed with people looking to buy fabrics from it directly. Veils is also one of the few Masters who didn’t keep Neddy Men around it, allowing it to prowl around its customers unhindered. 

Several customers do recognize Emil as a Neddy Man, however, and give him space as he approaches the Master. He doesn’t know how to address the subject that his organs are missing so instead he browses clothing far too expensive for him ever to afford. 

It doesn’t take long for Veils to notice him. “Aha! Taking an interest in those styles?” It asks, forcing itself between Emil and the racks. It knows Emil can’t afford to buy any of its wares but it is not about to drop its facade and act like it knows a ruffian like him in public. 

Emil glares up at Veils, puffing his chest out. “Actually, I came to talk to you,” he explains and he catches Veils’ rolling its eyes behind the cloth covering its face. “Your, uh,  _ former mate _ left me a gift.” He’s always been blunt but watching Veils’ face fall as it tries to comprehend the sentence makes him smirk. 

“My—” it starts, only to stop immediately. It catches itself before it completely drops its enthusiasm. “My my! We ought to step inside if you wish to buy that much silk!” It exclaims loudly with a sharp laugh. It grabs Emil’s arm, hastily hauling him towards the back of the shop. As if on cue, an Urchin shows up to conduct business. 

Once away from prying eyes, Veils turns on Emil, mood quickly changing.

“Speak fast or I’ll cut your tongue out, seeker,” it growls. 

Emil doesn’t respond with words, just places his bag on the ground and pulls out one of his jars. His heart. He sets it on a table for Veils to see. It blinks, lips curling over its teeth. 

“You said Eaten did this?” Why did it sound so  _ proud _ ?

“Got one of those fancy Mr Sacks robes from Wines. Wanted to see what would happen if I asked to visit ‘em. Said his name and blacked out. Woke up with seven jars on my mantle.” Emil shrugs. 

Veils examines the jar for a bit. “Canopic jars. Used in Second City. It was an honor to have your organs put in them.” Its voice is quiet when it speaks, something unusual for it. It picks up the jar, turning it over in its claws and tapping on the glass. The heart isn’t even perturbed. 

“It’s not a goldfish,” Emil grumbles.

Veils sets the jar back down and looks at Emil, head cocked and eyes narrowed. All at once, it closes the distance between them, forcibly dragging up his shirt. Veils’ gaze is hungry. It has to see what the empty cavity looks like. He yelps, struggling in vain against Veils’ grip. 

The skin over his stomach looks… loose. Like his whole body is faking it. It’s not caved in, but it looks wrong, only taunt in places because of the stiff scar tissue from the large scars Veils’ left him with when it first killed him. Where his ribs are, it looks normal and his chest still rises and falls with breaths he takes out of habit.

“W-what are you doing?” He snaps. 

On the table, his heart pounds erratically. Veils glances back at it and, then, experimentally, traces Emil’s top-surgery scars. He jerks back, hissing in surprise. His breathing shudders, despite having no lungs. 

“These are older scars,” Veils declares, a thumb-claw brushing one of his nipples. His heart races behind them. Veils smirks. So his removed heart does respond still.

“You know damned well what they are,” he tries to pull away. “Eaten didn’t leave any marks.”

“Are they really still so sensitive?” Veils presses closer, touching the scars in a way that makes Emil shudder. It’s towering over Emil, claws dangerously close to piercing skin. Its pupils are blown dark, a malicious grin on its fangs.

“Are you going to help me put my organs back in or what?” He huffs, dodging the question.

Veils suddenly drives its claws into Emil’s chest. The man shouts, gripping its wrist and almost doubling over. Blood drips out, slow, without a heart to pump it. There isn’t much either, as it would just pool helplessly in his gut. Eaten didn’t want Emil to die or suffer. Eaten wanted to give Emil a gift. The man is practically immortal, even by Neath standards, now. 

A lich with seven phylacteries.

“A little warning!” He hisses, panting in pain as he glares at Veils. “H-hold me up or I’ll fall,” he demands. 

Veils growls, but sweeps Emil up, shoving him against the shelves of fabrics and forcing his legs around its waist. It knocks the wind out of him and his head jerks back as he scrambles to fist his hands in Veils’ robes. 

And with a rough jerk of its hips, Emil is left with the dawning realization that Veils is very, very erect. 

“Sadist,” Emil growls. “Getting hard from this…”

Veils chuckles, repeating the action and the pressure on the crotch of Emil’s pants tells them both he’s already wet. “Do you think that wraith bothered to seal you shut?” It drawls. “Or does it open right up into your chest cavity now?”

Emil swallows, face flushed. He feels empty with no organs and tightens his legs around Veils’ waist. The throbbing cock pressed against his stomach would make him feel full, he thinks. “How about we find out?”

The Master smirks, all teeth. It wastes no time shredding Emil’s pants and tugging its own robes to the side. It uses its bloody claws to rub Emil’s cunt, spreading his lips and thumbing his cock.

“You’ve grown,” Veils says, pinching it. Emil cries out, bucking his hips. “Apples’ shots helping?”

“What, does it talk about me? That’s some piss poor manners from —  _ Oh _ .” His voice cracks as Veils slips a finger inside of him, using his own blood as lube. He rolls his hips, panting. 

“Your voice has changed too,” Veils’ tone is thicker as it adds another finger. “You sound like—” it cuts itself off with a growl, pulling out its fingers and jamming the tip of its cock against his entrance. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks, tugging at Veils’ hood. 

“Go ahead. You have found yourself the keeper of many Masters’ secrets after all,” it grumbles, trying and failing several times to push inside of Emil. Both of them are so slick that it just slips right past, their cocks rubbing together and making Emil whine. Finally, Veils growls, grabs its own cock, and guides it in. 

Emil moans sharply, pulling off Veils’s hood and fisting his fingers in its fur. He’s seen Veils plenty of times but he still can’t stop from staring. “Shit. You’re always so beautiful.”

The Master huffs, thrusting roughly. “You are a strange human.” There’s something strangely warm in its words. It makes up for the sudden fondness by fucking the man hard into the shelves. Emil clings to him, panting and groaning, as his legs shake around Veils’ hips.

Its cock sinks deeper, the skin around his abdomen grows taunt. “I bet I can take your knot now.” Emil whines, meeting each trust. He has no cervix or womb to block it. The cock head simply pushes out his clenching cunt and into his chest cavity. It's warm and wet and so tight that Veils is dizzy. Just knowing that its fucking Emil like this makes its knots swell. 

Veils snarls in pleasure. “Jerk yourself off for me. I’m close.” Veils warns, leaning over Emil.

“Do I feel that good on your dick?” He teases, shoving a hand between them to stroke his own cock. It twitches at his touch and he’s so hard it hurts. 

“Yes. Fuck.  _ Candles _ ...” Veils’ voice nearly breaks. Emil opens his mouth to make a snarky comment about being called Candles but Veils suddenly forces its knot inside him. He moans, clawing at Veils’ robes while he rubs his cock. The twitching of his insides practically pulls the knot deeper and locks it in place. 

Veils lets out a high pitched whine as it cums, shooting its load all the way up to where his lungs should be. Emil curses, the feeling of cum splattering his insides where it very obviously shouldn’t pushes him squarely over the edge.

The two are silent for a long while, just panting. Finally, when Veils’ knot deflates enough for it to pull free, it says, “Tonight. Meet me in my Spire. I’ll see what I can do.”

“It’s a date then,” Emil purrs. Veils drops him. 

—

As soon as the gas lamps are turned down low and the streets have emptied, Emil sneaks into the Bazaar. The Special Constables outside turn their gaze away from him. He knows exactly how to get to Veils’ apartment. He doesn’t bother to knock, simply lets himself in. 

Veils spins to look at him with its fangs bared. “Making yourself awfully comfortable.” It doesn’t wait for Emil to reply, instead grabs his wrist and tugs him inside, slamming and locking the door. The normal bedding had been stripped off Veils’ bed, instead replaced with something much cheaper. There’s a medical tray set up with tools next to it. Veils shoved him towards the bed. 

“Did you borrow all that from Apples?”

“Strip,” says Veils, not giving him an answer. Emil rolls his eyes but listens. Veils seems to have purposely made its room as cold as possible, and he shivers once he’s naked. He sits down on the bed and Veils gives him a firm push so he falls onto his back. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do!” It exclaims like the mere accusation that it has no clue how to perform medical procedures. It looks over the tools laid out before it grabs a bottle. It pours a cold liquid over Emil’s chest and rubs it in, not caring to be gentle. “I’m even kind enough to give you a numbing agent! You should respect my skills.” 

He shifts awkwardly at the touch. The feeling is strange and his torso quickly begins to fade as he loses feeling. “The jars are in my bag. I… didn’t bring all of them.” He had purposely left the organs he didn't want back in him.

Veils ignores him, instead distracted by picking out a scalpel. It has the same energy as it did when it was selling fabrics earlier. It’s making a low chittering sound, excited. “Bite this,” it says, holding a thick piece of leather to Emil’s lips. “I don’t want you screaming.”

“I thought you gave me painkillers?” Emil’s voice squeaks as he quickly tries to argue but Veils shoves the leather into his mouth. Veils runs a claw down Emil’s chest, right down the center. He can’t feel anything but he draws back in surprise, glaring. Small beads of blood well up to the surface of his skin. Veils makes another slight cut, drawing guidelines with its claw.

“Hold still,” Veils hisses, putting the scalpel to his skin. It traces the shallow marks left, making a Y-incision across his chest and down his stomach. The cut ends just below his belly button. He doesn’t feel pain, but the blade is cold and he wiggles again. It's strange to be awake while being cut open. His mind thinks there should be pain but he can't bring himself to away. Veils growls in warning, eyes flashing up to meet Emil’s gaze.

Carefully, and almost tenderly, Veils picks up another instrument. It uses it to peel back the flesh, working blade and claw alike to open up Emil’s chest cavity. There is pain now and Emil tries very hard to hold still. The numbness had only been so deep and the cool air hitting his exposed flesh makes him toss his head back and hiss. Tears well up in his eyes and Veils’ has to climb up and hold him down as he shakes from the discomfort. 

It takes a few hemostats to clamp the blood vessels closed. There isn’t much blood and it uses two other clamps to hold the skin back. It dips its hand inside the empty cavity, ducking down to get a good look. The feeling is awkward, painful in the strangest way. When Veils’ brushes against raw nerves or bone, hot white pain ignites through Emil’s body. He clenches his jaw, teeth digging into the leather. 

Veils rummages around for what feels like eternity, using all of its larger form to hold Emil still. And he can feel Veils’ getting hard from it. The Master rolls its hips slightly every so often as it explores Emil’s empty insides. Its slick makes its robes damp where its pressed to Emil’s hip.

The numbness spreads deeper, leaving Emil with nothing but much more tolerable pain. Pain that shoots down his spine and straight to his cock. The sadist and the masochist. The two of them make for a fucked up pair.

Finally, Veils pulls away, blood all over its robes and even on its muzzle.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” It says, reaching up to tug the leather strap from Emil’s mouth. “Well, except perhaps a cum stain.” It laughs darkly. Veils grabs a needle and medical thread from the tray. 

“That’s it? You’re just going to sew me up?” Emil’s voice is hoarse. “What about my godamned organs?! I’m literally hollow. What if I collapse in on myself?”

“You won’t,” Veils explains without a shred of remorse. “Oh, did I promise to help? My apologies, it was more of a morbid curiosity on my part.” It smirks, starting to sew the man back up. It starts at his chest, laying the skin back down.

“You sadistic bastard!” Emil hisses, trying to free his arms. His chest is still open so he doesn't know what he wishes to attempt but right now he just wants to strangle Veils.

“Sadistic? I gave you painkillers.” As if to remind him, it stabs the needle in harder than necessary. Emil winces out of instinct but he feels nothing. Emil falls silent, just watching Veils work to sew him shut. Its slow going, working his chest closed first. 

“What were you looking for? Some kind of love note on my ribs from Candles? Instructions on how to bring it back?” Emil tries to talk to distract himself. Veils’ straddling his waist and sewing him shut has left his whole body strangely hot. 

“Don’t you dare speak its name,” is all Veils offers in response. Its wings twitch under its robes, trying to spread out for leverage as it works.

Emil is left with half-formed memories that aren't even his. “This isn’t your true size, is it?”

Veils glances up then. It seems to think about how to respond before settling on saying, “No. We are naturally much larger.”

And Emil, being blunt as always, says, “Can you make yourself bigger then? Not your full size but… bigger?” He licks his lips, glancing down at Veils’ spread thighs, at the bulge under Veils’ robes.

“And what? You want to have me like that?” Veils rolls his eyes. “You would die, painfully, as your organs—” It stops, eyes drifting down to where his stomach is still laid open. 

And then it shreds its own robes with an extended claw. As soon as the fabric falls away, its form seems to shudder, blurring at the edges in a way Emil's mind can't keep up with. Its black fur melds with the shadows of the room and his breath catches in his throat as Veils' spreads its wings. Stars pulse erratically, like the excited pounding of a heart. Emerald and gold constellations, entire galaxies that force Emil to watch them blink and burn. 

Then its cock. Hard and thick, all the way to Emil's chest. It's pressed against his side, dripping with natural lubricate and precum. Such a deep red that it's almost black. The smell of musk and ozone makes Emil's body react, wet enough he's staining the sheets under him. 

Veils doesn't go immediately to fuck him, though, instead draws a claw over the skin that's still folded back and held with clamps. "I'm going to leave you open so you can see how deep I'm fucking you," it purrs dangerously. "I'll make you regret thinking you can seduce me." 

"You seem pretty well seduced," Emil teases. "Look at how hard you are." He strokes the cock at his side, palm barely covering half of the engorged girth. The barbs are only semi-rigid and he rubs one between his fingers. Veils lets out a low growl in reply.

“Don’t stop.” Its tone is firm and, without warning, it reaches into the empty cavity that is Emil’s chest, stroking the wet insides of where his guts should be. The feeling makes Emil’s back arch, breath catching. It’s strange and good in ways that should probably be disturbing. But Emil is a Seeker and has never really been safe or sane to begin with. He’s always used pain to feel alive.

Emil keeps rubbing Veils’ various barbs and spikes. He presses a thumb to the silt at its tapered head. The Master rewards him with a knuckle pressed between his legs. It dips two fingers inside of him, spreading him all while its thumb rocks against his cock. 

Veils keeps its wings spread, the lights throbbing with its cock. The smell makes Emil dizzy. One of Veils’ hands is exploring his insides, the other in his cunt, and before Emil’s brain can comprehend it, he’s cumming with a loud moan. 

“There you go. Good boy,” Veils coos, but its voice drips with dangerous venom. It moves quickly, replacing fingers with the tip of its massive cock. With Emil still dazed and painfully sensitive, Veils snaps its hips forward. Emil’s head jerks back. The feeling is so intense he can’t even make any noise. His cunt is spread wider than it ever has been before, probably wider than it should be. And the cock just keeps going, deeper and deeper. He gasps for breath, phantom sensations of his organs being rearranged. 

He’s practically paralyzed by the sensations, cunt tightening as if to stop the invasion. “ _ Fuck _ . H-hold on. Give me a second to adjust.” He hisses, trying to force himself to relax. 

Veils, surprisingly, does listen, if only to lean back and fist its claws into Emil’s hair. It pulls his head forward, forcing him to look into the hole in his abdomen. “You look beautiful like this,” Veils whispers. 

Emil can’t help but stare and he rolls his hips a bit. The cock inside him twitches and Veils growls, obviously trying to hold itself back. He bites his lip because, shit, if that isn’t the hottest and most fucked up thing he’s ever seen. It doesn’t help that Veils’ praise makes his cunt clench. 

“Do try and be quiet,” Veils warns. “I have a good image to protect! I can’t let the other Masters know I’m fucking a pathetic human.” It pulls out, almost all the way and Emil whines loudly in protest. “Hush! You’ll get what you want.” It thrusts back in, hard enough for his body to jerk with the force. 

Both of them are staring at the hollow cavity of Emil’s stomach, watching as Veils sets a cruel pace. Even still cut open, the sense of being filled is amazing for Emil after being empty for so long. He attempts to meet each thrust, pain and pleasure merging together as Veils’ cock scraps his insides. He is practically sobbing in pleasure, every inch of him melding around the massive member. Every inch of him made to belong to Veils and Veils alone. 

Veils is making animalistic noises, claws digging into Emil. Its body is trembling. It hadn’t been able to grow this big in centuries, wings spread and practically filling the room. “Filthy! Useless! Human!” It's yelling now, like when it's hunting. 

“So much for being quiet,” Emil remarks with a breathless chuckle. Veils responds with a thrust that makes him see stars, knocking the wind out of him. “Shit. Right there.” He moans. Emil reaches into his own abdomen, wrapping his hands around Veils cock and squeezing. The Master gives a sharp snarl, unable to form words. It's still watching itself fuck Emil, eyes wide and dark with lust. Emil can’t help but put on a show by stroking it, knowing his hands are bloodied from being inside his own stomach.  “Fill me up, big guy.”

“Stop! Talking!” Veils growls, grabbing Emil’s wrists and pulling them away from it. It pins him down, thrusting hard enough that Emil thinks his hips may break. Emil moans, arching his back. “There you go! Sing for me, my little flame. Such a wonderful voice! Let! The! Suns! Hear!”

He can’t stop himself from cumming then, body shuddering violently. The words are hot and he can barely comprehend them. But a part of him knows them. 

Veils follows with a sharp snarl. The rush of cum is absurd, filling the empty cavity and splattering out of the incision. It's too much for him and he finds himself passing out as Veils stills to continue to pump him full. 

—

When Emil wakes up, Veils has finished sewing him back up. There’s a comfortable weight all around him as he stirs, heavy enough he can’t shake it off. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he realizes its Veils’ wings wrapped around him. The Master is still asleep, although back to its normal size. It's holding Emil almost possessively. 

He decides having his internal organs in a series of jars is a good thing. Besides this, his job will be much easier when he doesn’t have to worry about being gutted or having his heart pierced.

He’s just about to fall back asleep when the door opens. Emil jumps, wincing as he does so. Apples is standing in the doorway, looking very surprised. 

“Is, ah, Veils done with my supplies?” It asks sheepishly. 


End file.
